


Ground Me

by Lambyrt



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, I'M STILL LEARNING I PROMISE I'LL GET BETTER MAYBE, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, mark is probs too kind here but like, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lambyrt/pseuds/Lambyrt
Summary: Nathan has a panic attack. Mark helps him ground himself.





	Ground Me

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said on my other fic I uhh... I ain't good at this shits, brah. But I'm enjoying myself so plz enjoy if you like jefferscott lol

How many times can he go crying to Mark Jefferson before the man gets tired of him? He chokes back his tears and sobs; feeling hands where they shouldn't be. Memories so vivid he wants to throw up-- and he does; over, and over, and over. It's been hours; he can't keep his weary eyes open but he can't close them. The moment he closes them, he starts to feel it again. Starts to feel the breath on his skin, smell the sour whiskey breath. He opens his tired eyes wide and hugs the bowl for dear life.  
  
He looks to his phone bleary-eyed. Two forty-five. He takes in a sharp breath, uneasily running his fingers along its edge. He knows Mark will be upset being woken up. It's a school night. He has class in the morning. He can't go this alone, though. Not tonight. He shoots a quick text asking if Mark's up. The response is almost instantaneous. He throws his jacket on over his ratty t-shirt and slips back into his jeans. It doesn't take him long to end up at the familiar doorstep.  
  
"'M sor--" it's a sickening choking sound before he wails. Mark sighs, grasping the boy and bringing him inside; hand softly rubbing along his spine. They make their way to the couch slowly; Nathan crumpling like a piece of paper against him. He just keeps rubbing his back; and it doesn't seem to be comforting him like it does usually. "What's wrong?" he speaks in a hushed tone, head pressed against Nathan's so he doesn't have to speak loud. He can barely hear himself over the sound of the boy's sobs, but Nathan can hear him.  
  
"Please, just," Nathan struggles for words. He doesn't want to explain what's wrong. He doesn't want to talk about it. What he wants is something real; something he can focus on. Something to take his mind off of things. He grasps Mark's hand, guiding it to his throat. "Just," he begs again, not finding the words. Mark doesn't need to have things spelled out for him. Slowly his fingers press along Nathan's neck, positioning in the right way to cut off his blood supply. He makes a gradual fist around the boy's throat, and Nathan lets out a sob.  
  
It's a sob of relief, but neither of them need to figure that out. As Mark's fingers press deeper into his skin, he starts to feel less and less connected with his body. His limbs begin to tingle, his head feels like it's going to explode. He opens his mouth to try and suck in a breath, spit trailing between two chapped lips. He feels lips press against his own and suddenly, his world goes black. He's free.  
  
Mark watches as the boy fades in his arms, releasing his throat with care. Nathan's limp against him, and he watches him sleep. An innocence takes his features and it's  _so_ , so beautiful. He thumbs along Nathan's soft jaw, presses his thumb over his boy's soft lips as he gently breathes. Beautiful, beautiful boy.  
  
Nathan wakes in a panic, eyes open wide and bloodshot. He finds himself tangled in sheets, breathing hard and hands balled to fists. He's alone, he looks around to try and figure out where he is. Mark's room, again. He slowly calms down, breathing at a more reasonable pace and less of a panicked pant. He closes his eyes, rubbing them, and gets up slowly. He makes his way to the bathroom, and when he looks in the mirror, his heart flutters. His neck is so beautifully bruised; five points where Mark's fingers had been. He presses over them softly, hissing in soft pain.  
  
If it hurts, why is he smiling?

**Author's Note:**

> If you want Mark to be a lot worse than he was, he probs fucked Nathan while he was passed out and took pics. He took pictures no matter what so like. (shrug emoji)


End file.
